


Tiny Prayer

by Yalu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adorable, Community: love bingo, Fluff, Gen, Kittens, animal husbandry, slightly cracky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:02:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/749854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <br/>
  <i>"Mew," it said again. "Mew!"</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Castiel frowned. "I do not understand." </i>
</p><p> </p><p> <br/>Castiel rescues a kitten. Slightly cracky. Mostly fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tiny Prayer

**Author's Note:**

> For [love_bingo](http://love-bingo.livejournal.com) Round Three. Prompt: Kitty love.
> 
> A lot of this fic was inspired by [this adorable and amazingly tiny kitty](http://yalumesse.tumblr.com/post/45245978778/fluffy-kittens-the-tiniest-cat-in-the-world-was) and [this fanart](http://yalumesse.tumblr.com/post/45534294448/babia-majora-cas-u-suck-at-this). It was too cute! I couldn't resist.

Humans don't know it, but angels can hear the prayers of almost every living thing – humans are just the loudest. All animals and most plants are able to call for help when they desperately need it, though of course their calls aren't very sophisticated; only the more intelligent animals are truly capable of understanding the concept of rescue from an outside force. But there are so _many_ , all the time, and they can't all be saved. Almost none can, in fact, because things have to die constantly to leave enough room for the living. 

That doesn't make choosing to ignore them any less difficult. Maybe, Castiel thought, that was why so many of his brothers and sisters chose to stay far away from Earth, and those who were stationed there hardened their hearts and closed their minds to the prayers. Castiel had never been able to do so, not really. The best he'd ever managed was to fake it. 

Fake it, or focus on something more important. Dean and Sam had taken up all of his attention in the last few years, except for that time with the bees (they'd needed a leader; their queen was dead and their hive in chaos. Castiel was happy to fill the role long enough for another to be born), but now something was calling – something nearby – and it was so young and weak and desperate that he stopped and paid attention, and turned down Dean's offer to ride shotgun back to the motel. "I'll meet you there," he said instead. 

Dean made a slightly odd face but shrugged and nodded like it didn't matter, and Sam asked, "You're sure?" as he packed their supplies back into the trunk. "We did a pretty good job today – I think Dean wants to celebrate."

Celebration didn't seem appropriate to Castiel; he'd heard the shifter's prayers too, as it died. Knowing it was now in Purgatory, and would be hunted there forever... perhaps it was fitting, given how many people it had killed for amusement, but after living that life for a year Cas did feel a little sorry for it. A little. 

Sam accepted his refusal and the brothers drove away. Castiel stood where he was for several minutes, listening and waiting for the tiny voice that had tugged at his heartstrings. He sifted through the usual chatter of urban neighbourhoods – a man wishing for help getting his children to bed, a girl trying to work out a math problem, a dog who badly needed a walk – and let it fade back into white noise. They would all be fine without him

_...hungry so hungry cold cold cold please help me..._

There. Castiel stretched his wings and followed the voice, and found himself standing right back in the same wrecked living room that he and Sam and Dean had just left. Evidence of their struggle with the shifter was everywhere, and the body of its last victim was cold on the floor. Sam had made an anonymous call to the police, who would be on their way now. There wasn't much time.

_Please help me please I'm so cold hungry food need please..._

The cries were coming from another room, down the hall. The walls were adorned with many posters of animals and "SPCA" was written on all of them. On the floor was a large cardboard box, filled with blankets and surrounded by tidy piles of paper and notebooks. The cries were coming from in there.

" _Mew_!"

Castiel knelt by the box and lifted a blanket–

_Cold! Cold that's cold I'm so cold please!_

The kitten was tiny, small enough to stand on Castiel's palm without trouble, but right now it was curled in the smallest ball it could manage, thin and barely shivering. He picked it up and cupped it in both hands, then held it to his chest when that wasn't enough and rubbed the skin to increase circulation. Its fur was very soft. He could feel the tiny spine and ribs through its skin.

After a minute, warmth seemed to seep into the little body and it relaxed a little. It lifted its head and looked up at him with huge black eyes. "Mew," it said.

"You are welcome," Castiel replied solemnly. 

"Mew," it said again, and rubbed its cheek against the palm of his hand. " _Mew_."

Castiel frowned. "I do not understand."

" _Mew_!" it cried, and this time with enough _need_ for it to become a prayer: _Food please I'm hungry hungry hungry so hungry._

"Ah. I see." He glanced around; some of the notebooks described feeding times but only listed times and amounts, not what it ate or where to find it. Castiel took one second to memorise the lists and then walked towards the kitchen. The kitten peeked out over his fingers and watched. 

One shelf was filled with sealed plastic containers full of liquid and a handful of small feeding bottles. Castiel would have passed it by if not for the writing on each side: _Kitten formula_. 

The instructions had said the formula must be heated, but Castiel had no idea how hot was appropriate, nor what method was intended. Police sirens were wailing on the street, drawing closer, so he simply gathered all the tubs, stretched his wings, and carried them all to the motel room.

"MEW!"

"I apologise for startling you."

Dean and Sam had clearly only just come in, and from where he was halfway to sitting down at the table with his laptop Sam said, "You didn't startle us."

"Yeah, Cas, we're pretty used to– Is that a _cat_?"

The kitten was peering out at this new room with awe and no small amount of fear. _Protect me please keep me warm safe please scared scared scared..._ "Mew?" it said carefully.

"Yes, Dean. It's very young and it is starving. Its caretaker was the shifter's last victim." He put the containers of formula on the table.

Dean winced and got that guilty look he always did when someone died and it wasn't actually his fault. "You taking care of it, then?"

"I'm... not exactly sure how." 

Sam and Dean looked at each other for a moment, exchanging a series of shoulder and eyebrow movements they used a lot and which Castiel still couldn't quite read. Then Dean said, "Pretty sure there's a microwave in here somewhere. Can't be that different from a human kid, right?" He crouched by the cupboards and started opening them.

Sam was typing a search into his faithful Google. "Do you know how old it is, Cas?"

"The papers said twenty-three days." 

In his hands, the kitten mewed again, pleading for attention. It was still shivering and looked up at Castiel with desperation. _Hungry food food hurts hungry hungry_ was all Cas could make out. "We are working on it," he promised.

Dean had found the microwave and was plugging it in. His forehead wrinkled. "You can talk to it?"

"I can... hear its prayers. Thank you," he said, and went to put one of the plastic containers in the machine. Dean rolled his eyes (fondly, Cas thought), took both it and the feeding bottle from him, filled the bottle, checked something on the bottom of the plastic, and put that in instead. He seemed sure of himself so Castiel didn't ask. 

"Okay, got it, Cas," said Sam. "You have to feed it every six to eight hours for the next week and burp it after every time. Keep it warm. And you–" he sounded amused "–you're going to have to wipe its ass for it for a while."

Castiel nodded solemnly. "I will."

The microwave beeped and Dean batted Cas' hands away and took the bottle out himself. He dripped a little on his wrist, nodded, screwed the cap on and handed it over. "Good luck, Mom. I'm taking a shower."

Castiel suddenly noticed he was still very sweaty and spattered with blood from the hunt, and Sam wasn't much better. "Of course. Thank you, Dean," he said, and carried both kitten and formula with him to a chair. The kitten could clearly smell its meal; it started wriggling and stretching its small neck and forepaws towards the bottle. It mewed over and over again.

"Hey Cas," said Sam, watching him, "hold it so it's on its stomach. It can choke if you don't."

Castiel adjusted his position immediately, placing the kitten on his lap and holding the bottle angled down towards it – but not yet close enough for it to reach. "Is this acceptable?"

_Hungry! Hungry now hungry PLEASE!_

Sam nodded and closed his laptop. "Hey Dean, d'you know where my toothbrush is?"

The moment its feeding bottle was close enough the kitten latched on, sucking on the soft rubber teat and immediately starting to purr. It kneaded the trenchcoat over Castiel's leg, flexing its paws almost in time with its purring. Cas kept his free hand on the kitten's back, mostly for warmth, but he found himself gently running his fingers across its fur. The kitten seemed to adore it and purred even louder. _Yummy yummy oh good warm more! thank you mmmm warm warm warm foooooood warm thank you thank you thank you thank you! More? More! Mmmmmmm..._

Dean looked up from grabbing clean clothes and laughed. "I think you made a friend there, Cas."

Castiel smiled, a warm feeling settling in his chest as he stroked its little back again. "I believe so."

The kitten purred.

**Author's Note:**

> This was going to be longer; I was going to go into Castiel adopting the kitten permanently while he hunts with the boys and all the funny, frustrating things that come of that, have Sam's dog-person side come out and have Cas cure Dean's allergies... but didn't happen. Maybe I'll write more someday if I'm in a crackfluffy mood :)


End file.
